Page 3 of UnLucky Christmas
I throw open the door to find Pete standing with one of his hands in his pocket. He gives me a warm smile.
“Hey, you,” I say.” You’re early.”
He’s on time, which I’d consider being early for him.
Pete chuckles softly. I do appreciate how laid back he is.
“How are you?” He steps into my apartment and wraps his arms around me. His hug is tight and secure.
“Ah,” he mumbles squeezing me a little tighter. “I needed a hug from you.”
I lean back and look at him.
“Is everything okay?”
He lets out a sigh. “It’s been a stressful week.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him towards me.
“Well hopefully sushi and a relaxing evening with me will help,” I say into his neck.
“Yes.”
We let go of each other, and he follows me into my apartment. Dasher makes a beeline for Pete. He picks him up and massages the top of his head.
“How was your day?” he asks.
I excitedly tell him about my new Christmas tree purchase.
He lets out a laugh.
“What?” I ask with a scowl. “Are you judging me?”
“Never.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Anyway, then I did some work. Nothing exciting to report.”
“That’s a good thing,” he says, sitting down on the couch and shifting Dasher into his lap.
I tell him about the plans for the party, and although I think he’s listening intently, he seems like he’s miles away.
“Do you want to talk? You seem really distracted.”
“Later. Let’s get dinner.”
“That’s a great idea—I’m starving.”
He gives Dasher one more scratch on his head, and we head out.
CHAPTER TWO
Inever used to eat sushi. I was always a basic food girl. My mother enjoys telling everyone stories about how bland my palate was while growing up. Bread, chicken, and sugar. I’ve always loved sugar. My brother Ben, on the other hand, would eat anything you put in front of him.
Thankfully, my love of good food has improved and I’m more adventurous with trying new things, including sushi. Five years ago, I never would’ve touched raw fish, or anything wrapped in seaweed.
I stir the soy sauce with my chopstick before dipping my spicy tuna roll into it. While we eat, Pete and I chat about work and the TV series we’ve been binging.
He seems to be less distracted by the time we return to my apartment. I’m about to turn on the TV, when he places his hand on top of mine.
